


'Stanford' Pines

by impish_nature



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesiac Stan, Arguments, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I need to stop hurting them, Post-Weirdmageddon, memory troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley spent so long pretending, what if he started to believe some of the lies he’d told throughout the years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Stanford' Pines

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I hope I did this little idea justice. It's been circling round and round my head for awhile now. Enjoy? (warning needed for serious self-worth issues and panic attacks? maybe?)

“Hey? Hey is anyone about?”

Ford blinked up from his journal at the voice, listening intently and silently for the time being to gauge what kind of day it was. He waited patiently in the small room he’d cordoned off as his study. It wasn’t the one he’d once had below ground, too many bad memories down there to use it again.

Besides, it wasn’t close enough to hear Stan if he needed anything.

“Anyone? F-F shoot, I’m sure it began with F. Floyd? That sounds right, kind of. Floyd, can you hear me?”

Ford sighed, biting back the disappointment as he let the book click down on the desk without much thought. _So it is one of those days._ It wasn’t Stan’s fault, the memory gun had erased all his long term memories and at first they thought that would be that, a clean slate.

Except it wasn’t.

Day to day things would slip away from him. Mabel had jumped at the chance to help with her scrapbook and everything had looked like it was clicking into place but by the next day he was looking at them all in confusion again as if all their efforts had been in vain.

Sometimes Ford thought they were fighting a losing battle.

“Yeah, I’m in here.” Ford shook the dark thoughts from his head. It was no use to dwell and besides, none of it had been fruitless. Day by day the kids spoke to him and the long term memory really did start to click into place. He remembered the summer, remembered _them_ and even if sometimes he still blanked out on their names he could tell they were important to him and the names would often come to him a few hours later as if a penny had dropped and the words rushed out like a sudden gush of much needed air. Each lapse in memory got smaller and smaller when it came to them, the bond between them patching up the fraying threads of his memory to form a semblance of memory even if the finer details escaped him.

Except the same could not be said for Ford. They’d tried, time and time again but the bond between them was not what it once was. Without the memories of their childhood and 30 years apart there was only a glimmer of recognition whenever they tried to remind him of his twin.

And if by chance he did remember by the next day the recognition was completely gone again unlike the young twins’ recollections.

“Oh thank god. I couldn’t remember the other names, I didn’t want someone crying on me again.”

Ford winced as Stan’s heavy footfalls approached him, heart thumping painfully at the blunt confession. No matter how much the youngsters tried, every time he stared at them like they were strangers Ford could see how it tugged at their souls. How they tried not to cry and show how much it hurt. He hated to see the guilt and pain swirling there, so he tried where he could to make sure that on days like this he got to Stan first.

Besides, days like today when he’d forgotten everything was usually when another bigger piece of the puzzle would fall. It wasn’t always pretty. There was every chance that he’d grow frustrated and angry at himself, knowing there were people around him who cared but not remembering _why_. But at some point something would catch him, his eyes would lock onto something small or a smell would make him pause and there’d be just a moment where Ford could see the dots connect behind his eyes, like he’d solved a puzzle no one else could solve and a grin would stretch from ear to ear.

Some days like today, all of those separate memories vanished to the fog. But on most days, those large chunks of the puzzle were the ones that stayed with him.

_You need to get through this with him. He can’t do this alone._

Ford nodded, steeling himself. These days might hurt but they were the best opportunities to get his brother back. He hoped that as time went on less and less of these days would occur, purely because he’d recalled more and more memories and they were stuck firmly in place as they should be.

Sure, maybe in the long run Stan would have his long term memory yet still struggle with the short term, but Ford could deal with that.

Because then he’d at least have _Stan_ back.

“There you are.”

“Did you need something?” Ford smiled at him, trying to will the disappointment away at the lack of any true recognition from his brother’s gaze. He couldn’t help the little thump his heart did as Stan grinned, the look so familiar on his face he almost wondered if the ‘Floyd’ calls had all been a joke and he had his brother back again.

“I remembered something.” Stan puffed his chest out, thumb pointed inwards as his smirk turned smugger by the second.

“That’s great news!” Ford couldn’t help the genuine grin that spread across his face to match Stan’s excitement as he stood up to greet him. Warm pride fizzling through him as he took in Stan’s chuffed body language, preening at the praise. It felt like Stan had wandered in to tell him he’d won an award or completed some impossible task and Ford would take every victory as it came right now. He had a feeling, though no one in town would say anything of the like, that if someone were to point out that Stan had no control over his memories he would probably have to punch them for daring to dampen their glee in these moments. “Wow, that’s fast. I don’t think you’ve ever had a flashback this early in the day before.”

“I know! I just was having a little snoop around this morning and bam it hit me!” Stan’s hand dropped, fingers fanning slightly along with his words. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t like the kids helping me out. But it’s nice to remember something all on my own, you know?”

“Makes it feel more real?” Ford gestured to the seat across from him, voice light and good natured even though he knew deep down he had no idea what Stan was going through. He could only really make assumptions on it but so far Stan had yet to shout at him for them.

“Yeah, I mean I know they wouldn’t lie to me but you know kids, there might be some exaggerations.” Stan chuckled as he dropped into the seat, stretching out languidly. “Mabel’s recollections always seem more colourful than Dipper’s, though I’m sure Dipper adds claws and teeth to those ‘monsters’ we battled over summer.” He raised his hands into air quotes, not even noticing how Ford seemed to almost grow giddy at the fact that he had remembered the twin’s names without even paying attention.

“So? What was it that you remembered?” Ford chuckled as Stan looked around surreptitiously before gesturing forward and leaning in. He couldn’t help but play along, happy to have an endearing moment with his brother, maybe not quite himself yet but still a big kid masquerading as an old man. “Well?” He whispered, eyebrow quirking as Stan stayed silent, drumming up the atmosphere like the man of mystery that he was.

“I-” Stan paused, getting a groan from Ford for the interruption. The joking punch to his arm got him going again, laughter bubbling with every word. “Alright, alright. I remembered my name.”

Ford hesitated, head tilting at the confession. He didn’t know what he had been expecting but that was not it. Then again, he didn’t want to rain on Stan’s parade. “Uhh, I thought-”

“What? That my name was Grunk Stan or whatever?” Stan quirked an eyebrow at him, smile still in place as he rolled his eyes endearingly. “I mean logically my names ‘Stan’ right? But I meant that I remembered my _full_ name, not the nickname the kids gave me.” His gaze turned sheepish as he glanced away, hand coming up to the back of his neck in sudden apprehension. “I mean, it might sound like nothing but…when you don’t feel like you have an identity anymore, a name kind of means a lot.”

Ford’s concern loosened, his muscles relaxing as he stretched out a hand to touch Stan’s arm. His voice was warm, soft and reassuring when he continued, an apology deep within it that he hoped the other could feel. “Of course it means a lot, I didn’t even think. You never asked before, so I just assumed-”

“I kind of wanted to remember that on my own.”

Ford hummed agreeably at the interruption, glad when Stan shifted to face him again. “Again, completely natural. It’s your name, you wanted to have that all to yourself. Your identity.” His thoughts clicked away at the other implications and he smiled, watching happily as Stan followed suit. “And I assume that with a name, came other memories?” He tutted as Stan nodded, a cheeky expression following the words. “I mean, not that remembering your name isn’t amazing but you couldn’t have said ‘and that’s not all!’?”

“You had to ruin the surprise, didn’t you, smart guy?” Stan huffed, arms crossing as he sat back again. “Maybe I wanted to tell you afterwards. You ever think that?”

Ford shook his head. “Alright, alright, so are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Your name!” Ford laughed, giving him another nudge to the shoulder as he feigned ignorance. It wasn’t the same per say, this back and forth but it felt so close to their old bantering conversations, before everything went so wrong, that he couldn’t help but fall for every bait that Stan threw out for him.

Stan took a deep breath. Ford leant in close again, an electric buzz of enthusiasm sparking through him as the showman showed his face again and he could almost see him, cane in hand, arms outstretched in front of a crowd of people. Charm seemed to seep out of him and Ford found it easy to comprehend how he could hold an audience in his sway through one of his tours, with or without any real anomalies to go with it.

And then the bubble of happy eagerness popped around him in one fell swoop leaving him ice cold and full of a thick oozing dread.

“Stanford Filbrick Pines.”

Any air that was in Ford’s lungs vanished painfully and it was suddenly difficult to draw any in, as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. In fact it was like Stan had punched him and was now watching him flounder where he sat, hands gripping tight to the seat of his chair to try and ground him. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to figure out what to say. A high pitch whistle echoed out of him as his airways closed up, black spots drifting through his vision and suddenly Stan was beside him, pushing at his back to coax him forward so that his head rested between his knees and his breathing started to ease.

“Jesus, are you OK? You’ve gone white as a sheet, man. Like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought you were going to pass out on me there, you just stopped breathing.”

Ford gripped at his knees, the black spots slowly disappearing with each sucking, gasping breath in. His nails dug in as his brain reconnected, bitter disappointment hissing through him at his reaction. He had thought up every possibility, every horrible memory that Stan might one day remember, every even slightly theoretical memory from all the years they’d been apart that might tear at Ford’s heart but he’d set them all up. Lined up all the variables and prepared himself for every inevitable crisis, all in the hopes of keeping it together for his brother. All so he could sit beside him and tell him that everything was going to be ok and that those memories were all behind him.

But he hadn’t thought of this.

Hadn’t thought that under any circumstances his brother would actually believe that he was him.

_Stanford Filbrick Pines._

He shouldn’t be this upset, this shouldn’t have affected him so but for some reason, he couldn’t fathom, it made his skin crawl and his hands shake. He felt like he was overreacting yet he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t push this off and accept it or try to slowly piece the truth together. Not this time. This time stung like a shard of glass was twisting into his heart.

_If he thinks he’s me, what does he think of Stanley Pines?_

“Hey, Floyd? Floyd, can you hear me? Did something happen? Do you need something?”

“That’s not my name.”

Ford’s words were more of a gush of air than anything, a whisper of pain that he couldn’t hold in. His heart felt like it was fragmenting with every word. Stan couldn’t remember him, had no recollection of him and now was using his name. He’d once been so viciously angry at him for using his name but now he couldn’t drum up any emotion other than anguish at the thought.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong, everything’s wrong. None of this should have happened! I’m Stanford! You’re Stan!_

_You’re Stanley Pines!_

_…The bravest man I know and you don’t even know it._

“What was that?”

“You’re not Stanford.”

“Excuse me?”

Ford froze as the words left his mouth. He’d meant to repeat himself, not add to the confusion. He’d just wanted Stan to know he was calling him by the wrong name, not mess everything up. Stan had been so proud only a few moments ago, but deep down he knew he couldn’t agree with him, couldn’t lie to make him feel better. Not when it came to his memories.

Not when it came to what was apparently 30 years of lying to not only everyone else but himself too.

“What do you mean?” Stan shook him slightly, trying to get him to look at him but Ford kept his head in his hands, palms rubbing his eyes as he tried to control the storm that had suddenly crashed through. Stan growled at the despondent attitude, the lethargic movements. “What do you mean? I remembered! No one told me anything! I remembered on my own, how can it not be my name?”

“B-because-” Ford bit his lip, looking over at Stan and almost wished he hadn’t. Stan hissed at him, the mask of anger slipping into deep of concern and he could only imagine what he looked like in that moment, overtaken by a sudden all-encompassing grief. He couldn’t even explain the feeling, all this anguish over a name but it felt like he’d lost his brother all over again somehow.

So ready to think he was Stanford, so willing to believe he’d never existed before that.

Ford took a shaky breath in, rubbing at his eyes again to mentally prepare himself before gesturing back to Stan’s seat. “S-sorry. Why don’t we see what you remember first and go from there?”

“But…what did you-”

“ _Please_. I know I’ve given you no reason to but please trust me.” Ford smiled shakily as Stan followed his instructions and sat before him. “Please, please don’t get angry at me, but I think if we talk it through you might understand. That’s not- that’s not your name.”

“But I remember. How could I remember wrong? No-one’s helped me.”

“I know. I know, it’s…it’s complicated.” Ford sighed, hands running up and down his arms as he struggled for answers he couldn’t give. How did he explain without seeming like he was forcing an idea onto Stan? He needed to remember things in his own time but if he let him keep this train of thought, who knew where it might lead? “Let’s start at the beginning. What sparked this memory?”

“I saw a signature. It was definitely my writing, I remembered scribbling it down. I even copied it then and there to be sure.” Stan frowned deeply, struggling with the sudden change of atmosphere. Guilt slunk cold throughout Ford for ruining the moment but he had to cut this thread before it grew and grew. “I remembered introducing myself as well. Shaking hands with people and telling them that name. Why would I do that if it wasn’t my name?”

“T-that’s-” Ford’s mouth felt dry, his tongue swollen and useless as the words stayed bolted firmly inside his head. He coughed to clear his throat, hand tight and painful against his thigh to centre himself. “Who do you remember saying it to?”

“Lots of people.” Stan huffed, crossing his arms, his leg jumping up and down in irritation at Ford’s obvious dodge tactics. A small smirk crossed his face as he unfolded his arms, jumping forward with a showman smile on his face, hand outstretched for Ford to take with a twinkling wink to his eye. “The names Stanford, Stanford Pines. But you? You can call me Stan.”

Ford leant away from him, gulping down the emotions that followed it. Stan frowned at him again, a frustrated huff leaving him as he gave Ford some space again. “What about family?”

“What now?”

“Do you remember any family?” Ford bit his cheek as Stan’s glower deepened, mind ticking away at what must appear to be a sudden jump in questioning. It made sense to him though, to push the thought in, remind Stan there was more to all this than he was remembering.

Remind him of himself.

That couldn’t be too difficult could it?

“Well-uhm, that’s a bit hazy.” Stan’s leg stopped jiggling as he sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he thought things through. Ford wondered what he was seeing as he whispered words not meant for him. “Hey. Hey, Shermie? I-it’s me Stanford…” Stan’s eyes brightened as he turned back to Ford, face proud and just a little self-assured. Ford wouldn’t mind the look in any other situation, in fact he’d rather Stan was taking grim satisfaction in teasing him and getting right under his skin like he always used to do. _At least that would be better than this._ “I remember Shermie! My brother Shermie! _And_ I remember introducing myself on the phone.” His smile dimmed slightly, head tilted to one side. “Must not have spoken to him for a while…”

“What about anyone else?”

“Hmm?”

Ford played with his fingers as Stan hummed half-heartedly, only partially in the room with him, the rest settling firmly in his head to ponder out all these little hints of recollections. It seemed the perfect moment. His brother might not even hear the words. “What about a twin?”

“ _I don’t have a twin.”_

A bucket of ice cold water drenched Ford from head to toe and left him breathless under the venom in Stan’s words. Pins and needles spread down the course of his spine leaving him shaking and pained by the utter animosity and pain lacing the voice.

_As far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I’ve got._

Ford scrunched his eyes shut at the memory. The words meant for him, but these words weren’t, these words had far more bite to them and they were meant for Stan alone.

Had he said these words before? Had the bite behind them been filled with self-loathing that he had hidden, pretending he was someone else?

“Wait…”

Ford’s eyes popped open, neck cricking with the force of his movements as he shot up to watch Stan puzzle over the latest strand of a memory flitting behind his eyelids.

“I remember…Shermie, Shermie asked something. Why would I say I didn’t have a twin? Why that specifically? If he didn’t exist then…” Stan rubbed a hand over his face before looking over at Ford, eyes suddenly lost and afraid. “Why do I sound so determined to pretend he didn’t exist?”

Ford gulped again, mouth opening and closing as the words continued to slice deep into his heart. He felt exhausted, an unseen wound bleeding him dry. “H-his name is Stanley.”

Stan’s eyes seemed to soften at his voice, a quiet sadness taking over as his mind cycled through more and more. Ford could only assume it was like a white dense fog lifting but only in certain areas, only enough for glimpses that out of context were more lies than truth. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how vexing it all was, this struggle down memory lane. “Stanley…that’s right. My twin, he died.”

“N-No.” His throat constricted painfully, tears threatening to spill but Stan saw nothing of it, eyes glazing back into memory, lost to them, lost to Ford.

“That’s right. Shermie. Shermie understood. I spat that out and he looked so upset, he told me I shouldn’t feel so guilty about it all. I shouldn’t hate myself for what happened.”

Ford felt warmth spread through him again, eyes widening as he waited with bated breath. Had Shermie always known? Had he been able to tell them apart after years without contact?

Stan continued, unperturbed by Ford’s internal wars.

“I told him the truth, that me and Stan had met. That’s we’d fought and Stan had stormed off into the night. He’d died before I could see him again, last thing we ever did was fight.” Stan’s hand’s shook as his eyes lost their dazed visage and he turned back to Ford, face grim. “I had to identify his car. There wasn’t a body to identify. I asked Shermie not to bring him up again.”

“ _No_.” The single word was a sharp shout that made Stan flinch but Ford couldn’t bring himself to care. “ _Why_? Why would you do that? Why would you- erase- why?” It felt like someone had hit him on the back of the head and all the words were suddenly spewing out without a filter, there was nothing to stop them, the last of his self-control vanishing with the realisation that Stan had erased himself from the family piece by piece. _The kids didn’t know you had a twin, the kids had no idea. Who else had no idea?_ “The kids- the kids deserved to know about you-him!”

“Deserved to know what? How much he ruined the family?” Stan snapped back, his body was ramrod straight, a fiery rage to him that took Ford’s breath away. “He ruined my dreams! He was so obsessed with that damn boat as if it would ever actually be sea worthy and he ruined my dreams because of it! And then after 10 years – _10 years_ I decide to try and give him a chance again and all he does is start an argument and storm off. It wasn’t – it’s not my fault he got himself killed being reckless like he always was!”

Ford heaved, another solid punch to his gut doubling him over. Stan still didn’t seem to notice, back in whatever tirade he had once told himself to assuage the guilt most probably at losing Ford through the portal. _Is this what he imagined I’d be like? Is this how he saw me? Or how he thought I should be?_ He glanced up, body swaying slightly as Stan continued his outburst and Ford slipped into his own memories. How happy Stan had been to see him when he had first appeared through the portal. How hopeful he had been.

_Did I cause this then? Or was this what he had been worried about and I just confirmed it?_

“Stan, _please_. Please stop.”

Stan locked up at the small voice, the piteous whisper making his face scrunch up in concern as he turned back to his brother. “Hey, what? What did I say? Are you OK?”

“S-Stan.” Ford took a deep breath, sitting up straight and shaking his head to dispel the dark, swirling notions. He had to be logical about this. Stan was remembering more and more with every question. Perhaps…perhaps this was necessary for him to remember _everything_. There was something blocking him, Ford just had to get through that wall. “Stan, what have you been doing for the last 30 years?” His hands twisted together as Stan’s face slipped back into a mask of bewilderment. “Since your fight with- with your twin, what have you been doing?”

“Running this place?”

“What else?” Ford couldn’t keep the urgency out of his tone. _Come on! You have to remember. You spent so much time. Struggled and learnt all on your own. You got so far without any help at all- you’ve got to remember that._

“There was…there was a weird room? In the basement?” Stan bit his lip, hands tapping at his knees. “I feel like I spent so long there but that place can’t be real right? I mean, it looks like something out of a sci-fi movie!”

A laugh hiccupped out of Ford, a short hysterical noise at Stan’s stunned disbelief. “It exists- or it did. The room is still there, the portal inside was dismantled.”

“The portal…that was real too?”

“ _Yes_.” There was a pulsing in Ford’s ears in tandem with his heart beat, a steady pound of excitement and fear harmonising together. “Yes, yes, it was real. Now Stan, think for me. What were you doing down there?”

Stan stared at him, a heavy solid silence reverberating between them as the atmosphere fizzled and sparked with the unknown.

Ford waited, hardly daring to breath until Stan shook his head vehemently, popping the atmosphere as his hands raised before him.

“No- no, that can’t be right. Why would I try to get Stanley _back_?”

“Stan-”

“No! This is ridiculous! My brother is dead, I know that, I can see the car wreck in my head.” Stan tapped at his skull but the hand faltered, pupils flickering side to side, seeing something only he could see. “So why- why do I remember standing in front of that portal time and time again praying that today would be the day he’d come back through. What was I doing? Raising the dead?”

“ _No_.”

“Then what was I hoping to achieve?! Stanley Pines was de-”

“He’s not dead!” Ford jumped up, hands itching to cover Stan’s mouth though he managed to refrain at the last moment. “He’s not- he’s not dead, Stan. You’re not- you’re _not_ Stanford Pines.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, the dots starting to connect as Ford tried to calm down. “What the hell does that mean?”

Ford ran a hand through his hair, taking the plunge and damn the consequences. “You’re not Stanford Pines. You- we fought, Stanley didn’t storm off or-or die-” The word left a sour taste in his mouth and made him shudder at the mere thought. “He _didn’t_. We fought, a scuffle broke out and Stan _ford_ ended up falling through the portal. You pretended to be him for years, all while you struggled to get him bac-”

“No.”

“No? Stan, think about it. You are not Stanford. Do you remember going to university? Do you know why you came out to live in Gravity Falls?”

“I-I-” Stan gripped at his hair. “Why can I see what you’re saying? Why is it so different to the other images?”

“Because they’re real, Stan.” Ford knelt down in front of his brother, tugging his hands out of his hair and trying to get him to meet his gaze. “You know that, deep down. You know that something’s not right. You know ‘Stanford’s story but you can’t see it can you? Not like you can see what I’m telling you. You can hear the lie in your voice every time you call yourself ‘Stanford’, can’t you? You can feel that something is wrong.”

“Why did you have to ruin it?!” Stan ripped himself away, eyes blazing and face full of torment. “Why couldn’t you just be happy that I remembered something?!”

“Because it wasn’t true, Stan.” A cry burst from Ford’s lips, hands hanging uselessly in the air as he struggled with what to do, where to put them. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you live a lie. You’re my brother, my twin. You’re Stanley-”

“I don’t want to be him!”

Ford was sure his heart stopped beating.

Stan was staring at him, painful raw genuine honesty in his expression. There was no hint of a lie in his panic to force away the identity he had only a few minutes before been so desperately searching for.

He’d wanted to know who he was.

Ford had shown him.

And now he looked like he regretted ever asking.

Ford wasn’t sure his heart would beat again, its shattered remains carpeting the floor around them.

“I don’t want to be him. I can’t be him.”

“Stanley…”

“No, you’re lying.” Stan glared at him, vicious and unyielding. “This is a trick. That’s all Stan _ley_ was ever good at! Lying and manipulating people. How do I know? How do I know it’s not _you_ that’s Stanley and you’re trying to trick me? Why would I pretend to be Stanford for 30 years?”

“B-because…” Ford sat back on his heels, hands flopping to the ground. He could probably come up with a million plausible reasons for Stan changing his name, but in that moment, none of them felt right. “I can’t answer that…only you can.”

Stan listed in his seat, like all the air had left him as his stony gaze faltered. “I wanted to be someone…someone worthwhile. Just for a little while.”

Ford’s heart turned to dust, the shards whisked away on the breeze and leaving him hollow to the core. He couldn’t stop the tears this time, soundlessly pouring as his voice warbled. “Stanley was worthwhile, he _is_ worthwhile.”

“No! No he wasn’t!” Stan stood up, pushing passed him and letting him sprawl to the ground without a thought. “He was reckless! He never did what he was told! He ruined everything he touched and he never made a good decision in his life! He didn’t deserve anything or anyone! He just took and he took and he-” He panted, puffing in air like he couldn’t get enough as Ford continued to stare balefully up at him. “There was nothing good about him. He was worthless- a waste of space! He should never have been b-”

“ _Don’t you dare_.” Ford growled, his voice low and dangerous, catching Stan off guard and left him fumbling for words. “Don’t you dare say what I think you were about to say.”

“Why? Why are you defending him?” Stan was so aghast, hands flailing wildly as he gestured at Ford and then the room around them. “Look what he’s done to this place! Look what he did to _you_! First he pushes you through a portal after you finally give him a chance to do something with his life and then he takes your name? Your house? And not only that, he makes it into some-some monstrosity that mocks everything you’ve done with your life. All that research, all that potential made into money making scheme after money making scheme. How can you defend him? He’s made a mockery of everything you held dear.”

“No, he was just- he was surviving, the only way he knew how.” Ford felt the thought slip out passed his lips, his eyes widening.

The tables had turned, he was defending everything that he had been so bitter about upon returning. Stan hadn’t made those choices thoughtlessly, he’d done everything he could to keep this place running, keep the portal going. Done everything to keep himself alive and return Ford to his home.

But right now he couldn’t really focus on the span of that revelation.

Not when Stan had-

_He remembered. I didn’t tell him any of that._

They stared at each other, Stan heaving breath after breath as the rage slowly left him. Ford could see his mind slowly turning, see the cogs shifting behind his eyes as he sat staring up, motionless from where he’d been pushed over earlier.

It felt like an age before Stan realised the magnitude of what he had said. What every word had meant. The puzzle pieces were falling into place and the story that Ford had told him was becoming more evidently true with every passing silent second.

Stan remembered pushing him.

Ford hadn’t said anything about being pushed, he’d said he’d _fallen_.

In the same moment that Ford thought the words Stan seemed to deflate, his shoulders hunched in on themselves, his face falling into bitter disappointment as his lip trembled.

He looked so small and fragile, so unlike himself. Ford wanted to curl him up tight and protect him from the world, protect him from himself.

“I don’t want to be _him_ , Ford. You _hated_ him.”

Ford choked as his brother finally called him by his name. He could feel his heart beating again but it was sharp and jagged in his chest, as if it was still trying to stitch itself back together again. He didn’t feel hollow anymore, a ball of lead weighing him down but he forced himself up out of his fallen position. Let his gut instinct and protective impulses sweep through him and wrapped his arms tight around his brother.

“Now you- you listen to me.” Ford tugged him in tight, resting his chin on the crown of Stan’s head as Stan buried himself into the hug. “Stanley was- is the bravest man I know.” Stan whined a noise of discontent that Ford hushed with a small whisper. “He _is_. He’s a hero. He saved everyone. And even if he hadn’t, people loved him. People still love him, they come to visit him every day in the hopes they’ll remember them too.”

“The kids…”

“ _Yes_.” Ford felt more tears drip down his cheeks and he scrubbed at them one handed to stop them falling on to Stan. He sniffed loudly, laughing slightly in his relief. “The kids. The kids adore you, they adore their Grunkle Stan. They’ve spent the entire summer with you, you’ve looked after them and maybe at first you didn’t expect to grow fond of them but you _did_. You love them and they love you. And _the town_ \- the townspeople all know you by name, and sure it might be the wrong name but the kids have told them all everything. They don’t love the name, they love you, _the whole town_.” He sniffed again, arms tightening around Stan and finally he reciprocated, his arms winding around to grip the back of Ford’s coat. “Stanley Pines came here and made a home for himself, found a family. Just because he was using the name Stanford doesn’t make Stanley anything less- no one is angry at him for that. He’s Stan, _their Stan_ and he always has been.”

“And Ford?”

“Yes?”

“No…” Stan shook his head, refusing to look at him. “What does Ford think?”

Ford hissed, his brain struggling with the thoughts and Stan seemed to register the torment but for all the wrong reasons.

“It’s…it’s OK. You don’t have to answer that. I mean, you’ve been defending him but you know, I assumed years ago that Stanley had ruined things passed the point of no return.”

“No, that’s not. I was – Stanford was angry, bitterly so but he should never have said the things he said.” Ford bit his lip, faltering again. “His world had been turned upside down but you were never worthless, he should never have said that. And when you do remember everything, you’ll see that we were like you’re thinking now for a long time. At each-other’s throats, forever arguing over so many stupid little things but then-” His breath hitched again, hands shaking as he felt the memory gun in his hands, saw his brother so accepting and empty in front of him and knew he had to pull the trigger. The ache of knowing what would happen next, eating away at him as he did what had to be done. “Then _I lost you_. I lost you and I realised my mistake, I realised how much you meant and I’m so sorry I never proved it to you at the time. I’m sorry that the only time we made up and spoke like sensible adults was the last conversation I had with you before you vanished completely.”

Ford waited for Stan to speak but he stayed silent, waiting and Ford could tell just like Stan could that there was more words that wanted to tumble out, to break free and coil in the air. All the feelings that he hadn’t let himself say, all the guilt he had bottled up because he couldn’t put that on the kids. He couldn’t burden them, and his one confidant, the one person he had trusted all those years ago above all others was the one blinking at him like he was a stranger, the cause for all his grieving thoughts. “I said Stanley was the bravest man I know and he was everyone’s hero. But that’s a lie. He’s _my_ hero. We both made so many mistakes, neither one of us was completely at fault though we both tried to push the blame on the other at times, when arguments rose up. But you see none of that matters, because Stan made up for all of them. He sacrificed everything to make amends, to save his family. He was the better man in the end. He saved me. And I’m going to look after him now, you know? Through every single painful memory that might surface, I’m going to be right here telling him that it’s all going to be fine in the end. For every happy memory that makes him grin and ramble his heart away, I’m going to be here for him to ask questions and get him laughing at the little added details. I’m going to be right here, right where he needs me through thick and thin because he deserves that. He deserves for his twin to be at his side.”

Ford took a deep lungful of air, feeling like he’d let out so much that there was almost nothing left inside him.

“A-and, one day…one day I hope he’ll come back to me properly. So I can tell him in person that he’s my brother and I still care about him and _I miss him_. Because I do. I miss him every day.”

Silence met his words yet again, but it was less sharp this time, less tangible and restless. It was more like a gentle hum, a calming lull after a fierce storm to give them time to heal and patch themselves back up.

Ford sighed, the sound worn down and weary. He was so tired, emotionally exhausted but somehow lighter. The world might not be right but he’d been given a chance to say how he really felt, to let everything out in the open, even if Stan would not remember once morning came.

He’d remember, he’d know he’d said his piece. That was what mattered. And somewhere deep deep down in Stan’s mind he was sure he would remember that. Remember that Ford didn’t hate him like he’d led himself to believe.

“You know…”

Ford blinked, shifting his head to show he was listening as Stan hummed quietly.

“Y-you know…I think I like your Stanley and Stanford Pines more than the ones in my head.”

The voice was hesitant, a warble of self-doubt and hope mixed into one solid questioning tone that spoke of years of self-deprecation and longing.

Ford sniffled, a choked laugh leaving him as he squeezed his brother tight once again, glad for the arms that finally circled around him properly in response and gripped him back just as tight.

“I do too. I hope you remember them soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: And mammoth fic done~ I couldn’t decide if it was possibly gonna be a multichapter so settled for a long oneshot instead. I think I got everything I wanted into it.  
> I am now all feels’d out. Like seriously, between the Mabel fic and this one I need to go find some fluff to read myself. Or just sleep...sleep is also a much needed thing.


End file.
